


brothers on a hotel bed

by orphan_account



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Cunnilingus, M/M, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-24
Updated: 2011-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-15 22:32:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akihiko knows that he's lucky—nobody dares to give you shit for these things when you can hit as hard as he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	brothers on a hotel bed

_the youthful boy below  
who turned your way and saw  
something he was not looking for—  
both a beginning and an end._

 _but now he lives inside someone he does not recognise  
when he catches his reflection on accident._

\- - -

All things considered, Shinjiro's reaction could have been a lot worse.

(although Aki supposes it probably still could have been better. And Aki probably could've put it to him a hell of a lot better, too—but he's never really been one for regret beyond the occasional 'man, i really shoulda punched this guy that one time'. No point to it, he's always thought.)

"You want to be a guy?" Shinjiro says, staring down distastefully at the scissors in his palm, and Aki snorts. It's a good sound—rough, masculine. It feels like dirt under his nails and the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge and pinning his bandages together so tight he can barely breathe. He's only ever worn them at night in the safety of his own room, but still—they've never slipped loose, not once, and Aki's going to keep it that way.

"No, dumbass, I _am_ a guy. Now shut up and help me cut my damn hair already," Aki says, and feels strangely proud when his voice doesn't tremble.

-

It's alright, after that. For a moment Aki finds himself almost worried about whether or not he's going to get shit for it (from the other kids, from the orphanage itself—it'll just be more bullshit about a missing father figure or the trauma of loss making him delusional or whatever it is about his life that they want to pick apart and analyze and _defile_ today), and Shinjiro just says, "Since when have _you_ ever worried about what other people think?"

Aki runs a hand over his hair, cropped and uneven, and thinks of Shinjiro silently cutting it for him. He thinks of training with Shinjiro—Shinjiro, who never hesitated to hit him that little bit harder when he asked for it and who never asked questions.

"That's true," Aki says, and laughs because everything's going to be alright.

-

People do give him shit, but it doesn't matter—he just learns to push himself further and hit them harder. And he's starting to find that it's easier to let go, now. Easier to punch some fucker in the jaw and watch them cough and spit and not feel bad for it.

(easier to be Akihiko and not _Aki_. But Shinjiro still calls him that, and Akihiko lets him—it's not exclusively a girl's name, and Shinjiro says it differently from how he used to. It's a little lower, now, a little rougher around the edges.

He says it like Akihiko's just another one of the guys.)

\- - -

Akihiko never quite gets over how _easy_ moving into the dorm actually was.

There are never any questions, any awkward explanations. He's sure Mitsuru knows, but another thing he's pretty sure of is that this is hardly going to be the strangest thing in her life right now. And it's not the strangest thing in his, either—for once, it means nothing. His room is on the second floor, right next to Shinjiro's, and nobody cares now that he doesn't wear a shirt when he sleeps. He still trains everyday and he still pushes himself as far as he can possibly go and nobody ever tells him, "Girls shouldn't be so tough."

Nobody's going to say a damn thing to him as long as they keep going to Tartarus at night and Akihiko keeps beating down Shadows like it's what he was made for. And he spits and wipes his bloodied knuckles onto his cheek and thinks he's never had it so good—the heat of battle is all he needs, and he has plenty of it now.

Akihiko shivers and listens to his heartbeat _thunder_ under layers of bandages that get tighter every day.

(and they're almost suffocating him but somehow at the same time they make him feel so _alive_ )

-

And it's all great, except that the aggression never actually dies. He goes into battle full of adrenaline and with blood pumping in his ears and comes out of it the exact same—they return to the dorms and Akihiko lies in bed wide-awake with his hands shaking and his mouth dry and vaguely aware that there's something _wrong_.

He fidgets restlessly under the sheets, feeling them brush against his bare chest, and Akihiko thinks—

-

First thing in the morning (after he binds and throws on a shirt, that is—Shinjiro's seen him in less than this, but he at least wants to give the _impression_ of decency), he's at Shinjiro's door.

Shinjiro glares at him and grumbles, "the hell do you want at a time like this," and generally acts the eternally-pissed punk until Akihiko says, "just shut up, Shinji," and kisses him—which does shut him up, except Akihiko suddenly isn't all that sure where he was going with this. So he waits for Shinjiro to kiss back, feeling ridiculously awkward and unsure of himself, and it's something of a blessing when he actually does. And Akihiko thinks, 'this is it, I can't turn back now', and finds that he isn't really that worried by it.

(Because it's Shinjiro. Shinjiro, who cut his hair for him that time back in the orphanage; who stole rolls of bandages from the nurse's office and watched Akihiko bind his breasts without a word.

Because it feels right. It feels like shedding his old skin for the new, fresh and flushed and beautiful.)

-

Shinjiro undoes his bandages with something like caution. He does it so slowly and so _delicately_ that Akihiko almost wants to scream—he isn't fragile. Every night he beats down what can only be called _monsters_ with his bare fists, and yet somewhere along the line Shinjiro's still gone back to thinking of him as the weak little kid he was years ago. Great.

"Don't—don't be so goddamn _gentle_ with me, Shinji," Akihiko growls. He has to practically rein his voice in because treating him like this, after everything he's done to try and prove himself, it just makes him so _pissed_ —

(you think I can't get hurt like you, is that it?)

Shinjiro stops, and Akihiko breathes in and thinks, 'no turning back'. He laughs shakily, feeling his heartbeat start to pick up, and says, "Suck my dick."

Akihiko doesn't pack. He wanted to, before, but he never found anything the right size or the right weight or the right _feel_. Once, back in the orphanage, he tried stuffing a rolled-up sock down there—it felt _wrong_ , somehow, and he never did it again. And after a while, he stopped caring about it entirely. He doesn't feel worse off for not doing it—especially not at the dorms, at home. Nobody here gives a fuck what's in his pants. _Akihiko_ doesn't give a fuck what's in his pants, not anymore.

Shinjiro doesn't, either. Shinjiro looks up at him and laughs right back and says, "Sure."

-

Later, Akihiko vaguely wonders if it's strange that the most _male_ he's ever felt is when he fucked a guy's mouth with his clit—his hands clutching Shinjiro's hair, his breathing heavy and his palms slick with the sweat of climax.

He thinks about it for a moment before deciding that he doesn't really care.

\- - -

Mitsuru tells him one day that they're getting new recruits—he supposes that it's worth a try. He's admittedly still a little bitter, and there's still a part of him that keeps mentally replacing 'new recruits' with 'Shinji's replacements'. But—

(he's never been one for regret. No point to it then, and there still isn't.)

"Akihiko, are you planning to tell them about…?" Mitsuru says, trailing off with a meaningful look. Akihiko momentarily considers playing stupid before deciding that it probably wouldn't end well. It never has, with Mitsuru.

"Maybe. I'm not sure, yet," he answers. It's true—he _isn't_ sure. He's been doing just fine keeping it under wraps, and he doesn't want to risk that. Once or twice there's been the occasional stray rumour floating around school, but they just get shot down as quickly as they come up—he's too tough, he's too handsome. It brings him an odd sense of pride, hearing people talk about him like that.

Mitsuru waits a few seconds for him to continue, and looks somewhat annoyed when he doesn't. "Ah. So I suppose you'll just make your decision when the time comes?"

"Does it even really matter? C'mon, Mitsuru, don't be so serious," Akihiko laughs, and feels the bandages tighten down on his chest with the movement. He still wears them, even though he could easily afford a proper binder—one that could survive anything, one that would flatten his chest entirely. Bandages give way just a little and let him breathe in the early morning air. And they hurt, sometimes—they get so tight that they leave his ribs aching and his chest raw. But Akihiko thinks that he likes it that way.

He laughs again, for no reason at all. It's been getting easier to laugh about these things, lately—he doesn't feel pissed all the time like he did before. He doesn't feel anything the same as he did a year or two ago. He feels _better_.

(he feels like his own person, like he's living the life he's always wanted. He feels at home in himself.)

Maybe he'll tell the new kids, maybe he won't. Akihiko thinks that it might be good enough just having a choice in the matter.


End file.
